


Something so precious about this

by BrightDream



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brienne Blushes A Lot, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jaime is smitten, Post Winterfell Battle, Season 8, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-25 15:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18577588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightDream/pseuds/BrightDream
Summary: ''After all those years of cautious courtesies and careful distance, of “ser” and “my lady” and pointedly not touching each other, it’s odd how easy it is to hold her, to be close to her. They haven’t lost their physical intimacy from the early years, tied together on the horse by the Mummers for hours and hours; their naked bodies flushed close in the Harrenhal baths, floating high on water and fever and confessions.It’s familiar, the weight of her, the touch of her nose in his neck, her short, straw-like hair, which he endlessly runs through his fingers, again and again as she cries. Jaime has no words for her, nothing to soften the blow of such a loss. So he holds her and holds her until her tears have finally ended and she is calm and relaxed in his arms."After the Battle of Winterfell, Jaime goes after Brienne. He comforts her, and that ends up leading to something more.





	Something so precious about this

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's been ages since I've written fic for this pairing, but the last episode was just too much for my little shipper heart. I'm too anxious about their banging not to write fic about it, so here it goes.
> 
> I suck at titles, so I shamelessly stole a line from the song "From Eden" by Hozier, which by the way could not be more perfect for these two.

When it’s all over, and the bodies have burned to ashes in the funeral pyre, lit up by scorching dragon fire, he goes to her, aching.

He feels exhausted and battered and old, so old. The Gods are truly unjust to not have taken his life, when so many younger men and women have been lost. Not just men and women, but children as well, and Jaime can’t help but think it should’ve been him in the fire instead of Pod, or Lady Mormont, or all the babes that have been plucked from their mother’s embrace by cold, decaying hands.

When he knocks on her door she doesn’t answer, even though he can see light leaking from under her door. He tries the latch and finds it unlocked, opens the door slowly.

She sits on the floor next to the bed, legs and arms folded under her, her head hidden on her knees. Her blue armor is scattered through the room, shining meekly in the light of the fire, but she is still wearing her battle clothes, dirty and sodden. She doesn’t even acknowledge him, doesn’t lift her head to look. She seems… _Small_ somehow, even though she is anything but, and Jaime feels a clenching pressure inside his chest, to see her so broken.

He closes the door behind himself, crosses the room to crouch next to her.

“Brienne.”

She lifts her head and stares at him blankly, almost as if she doesn’t recognize him, but then she chokes on a word that is not quite a word and might have been his name, and bursts into tears.

Jaime embraces her, gathers her impossibly close between his arms.

After all those years of cautious courtesies and careful distance, of “ser” and “my lady” and pointedly not touching each other, it’s odd how easy it is to hold her, to be close to her. They haven’t lost their physical intimacy from the early years, tied together on the horse by the Mummers for hours and hours; their naked bodies flushed close in the Harrenhal baths, floating high on water and fever and confessions.

It’s familiar, the weight of her, the touch of her nose in his neck, her short, straw-like hair, which he endlessly runs through his fingers, again and again as she cries. Jaime has no words for her, nothing to soften the blow of such a loss. So he holds her and holds her until her tears have finally ended and she is calm and relaxed in his arms.

“He was like the son I will never have,” Brienne says quietly, and it feels like a punch to his gut.

_You might,_ Jaime wants to say, and in his mind he can see a blonde boy and a blonde girl, sapphire eyes and golden hair, running in a beach with calm, blue waters. They would be tall like her, and lithe like him, and beautiful, so beautiful, and they would chase after him calling him “papa”.

But it’s a dream, an impossible dream, of summer and warmth and love, and it will never happen, not on this life. Jaime will not live to see the end of this war, and the only child he will have will be born in King’s Landing, a golden lion or lioness that won’t get to grow past its first year before being inevitably lost to dead men or dragon fire.

“You were so good to him,” Jaime says to Brienne instead. “You were both a knight and a mother to him, and you taught him how to fight and how to be honorable and how to do _right._  When you left King’s Landing he was a boy, but he died a man, with a sword in his hand and courage in his heart. That’s more than any of us can hope for these days.”

She nods wetly against his neck, acknowledging his words, breaths in and out.

“Jaime,” she says after another long while. “Thank you.”

He smiles softly. She called him by his name, “Jaime” and not “ser”. It warms his heart.

“I’m here for whatever you might need, Brienne,” he promises. And because he’s a little embarrassed of how fiercely he sounds when saying that,  he adds: “You should change from these wet clothes. Before you get sick.”

She nods and disentangles from his embrace to get some clean garments in the closet. Underclothes and a lose shirt and pants, huge and stained from time. Jaime gets up and turns his back to allow her privacy to change. He can see her shadow in the wall in front of him, though, the light of the fire revealing her long arms, her lean belly, the soft curve of a breast…

Jaime swallows.

“You can turn around now.”

He does and they both hesitate, staring at one another across the room. Jaime wants to reach to her and gather her in his arms again but is not sure how. It seemed so easy to hold her when she was crying mere moments ago, why is it so difficult now?

But Brienne surprises him.

She crosses the room in a few quick strides, touches his hand with one of hers.

“Would you… Would you sit with me a while longer?” she asks in shy voice. As if she is unsure if he wants to, as if she can’t see he’s dying to touch her again.

“Of course.”

He pulls her to sit on the bed, opens his arms as an invitation. She gets between them, sighs into his embrace. Just like that, it’s easy again, her, him, their bodies pressed close, his hand caressing her skin, her hair, her back…

Brienne’s soft and pliant under his fingers and Jaime touches her, gently, greedily. He has time, and so he takes the time to explore: the curve of an ear, the curve of the neck, a scar in her collarbone, callouses in her fingers, the smell of her, rich and sweaty and Brienne’s…

It’s too much, that smell, particularly in the spot where her neck meets her face, right under her left ear. He presses his nose there, unable to help himself, and she lets out a small sound, almost a whimper.

Jaime tenses, feels something tightening in his chest, in his pants. She’s in his arms, in her bed, just how he pictured her so many times in the last month, and she’s warm and soft and, and…

He kisses that spot, a soft brush of lips first, then open- mouthed when she doesn’t complain. His tongue tastes her sweat, right there under her ear, and this time she _moans,_ and oh, Gods, that’s probably the most arousing sound Jaime has ever heard.

He pulls back, to look in her face, to look in her eyes, in search of something, anything to show him he should stop, should put some distance between them. Her eyes are shining impossibly bright and she looks at little flushed and perhaps a little scared. He waits for her to say something, to demand him to leave, but she only looks at him and then, very slowly, gives a small nod.

Jaime releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, moves his hand to seize her face. She closes her eyes and he kisses her brow gently in response, then her eyelids. He explores her face, her perfect, _beautiful_ face, her broken nose and her eyebrows and her cheeks, peppering them with kisses.

It’s like time has stopped and there’s nothing but her, breathing quicker now, as he kisses her chin, and her neck and the small scar over her lip.

Their lips brush.

It’s like an afterthought, that he kissed her in the mouth, that he _would_ eventually get there. But then she kisses him back, tentatively, and he can’t breathe, _he can’t breathe;_  this is happening.

He holds her head with his hand, angles her head and kisses her again and again and again, small and soft then lingering and deep, tasting her mouth, her breath.

It’s… Warm and easy and clumsy and passionate, all at once, unlike anything he could have imagined. She’s breathing hard between kisses, her hands fisted in his shirt, following his lead, and then she moves to get closer to him and ends up in his lap, instinctively straddling him.

Jaime feels her cunt grind against his hard cock, just a few layers between them, moans against her mouth. She is so warm, and she wants him, and he’s so, so hard, it would be easy to just lay her down and take her, push into her, make her his…

“Brienne,” he says, pulling back from her mouth. “I don’t know if it’s wise…”He searches for the right words. “I wouldn’t want to dishonor you, my lady.”

“There would be no dishonor in this, ser,” she replies, and she sounds like the warrior she is, confident and powerful and so sure of herself. “I would give it you, freely.” But then she hesitates, and something changes on her face. “Unless you… If you don’t really mean it, then I–”

“I mean it.” He presses their foreheads together, kisses her as a reassurance. “You are everything I have now, Brienne, the thing I most cherish in this word. I came to Winterfell because of _you,_ to die by your side, and Gods, I do desire you.” He pushes her to grind against his hard cock one more time, smirks in response to her gasp. “Can’t you feel it just how much?”

She flushes hot and nods, embarrassed. She’s so pure, a maiden still, and he vows to himself that he will do this and take it slowly, for both of their sakes.

He kisses her again, and she meets him eagerly, grinding uncounsciously against him one more time. He palms one of her breasts through her shirt, feels an already hard nipple standing to attention. He wants so badly to put his mouth to that, so he does, throwing both of their shirts away and sucking at her teats, one after the other, feeling out the little nubs with his tongue.

“ _Gods_ ,” she says, very loudly, and then looks so embarrassed about it that she flushes all the way from her face to her breasts. Jaime _loves_ that; loves how her breasts are small and feminine even though her chest is muscular and strong, and how they fit entirely in his mouth when he pushes her back in the bed to tongue them some more.

She’s glorious like this, gasping under his touch, vulnerable, her hands gripping him by the shoulders to keep him close. He pulls back to lower her pants and underclothes (it’s hard with one hand, but she helps him) and then she’s naked, and he can see all of her, every little inch of skin.

Brienne meets his eyes, and she looks shy and very, very young.

“You’re beautiful,” he says tenderly, taking her in. She has new scars and somehow even more muscles than she used to have when he first saw her in Harrenhal. He remembers how she looked, remembers well, and catalogues all the little differences in his mind, his own personal treasure of her.

Brienne scoffs at his words and moves as if to cover herself with her hands, but Jaime shakes his head quickly, takes a hand in his.

“But you _are,”_ he vows, and kisses her collarbone.  “You truly are, my lady.”

He can see she doesn’t believe it, but it’s fine. He’ll prove it to her, even if it takes every single night for as long as they should both live, even if he needs to kiss her body a million times over, to finally make her see it.

He does that now, kisses her, all over. Her arms and her legs and her lower belly, which is so soft, absurdly so. His fingers probe between her curls to find her wet and wanting, and he toys a little with her clit, paying attention to her sighs and whimpers. He used to be so good with his fingers, but his left hand is not nearly as skillful as the right one used to be. It’s a pity, as he would love to make her come undone just like this.

Jaime wants to taste her as well, though, badly, so he lowers his head and licks at her instead. This time she really _does_ scream, and Jaime can’t hold back a laugh.

“What is it?” he asks, and her face is of utter shock.

“I didn’t know… I never thought…”

“That people did this? Surely you have seen soldiers talking about getting their cocks sucked before.”

“Yes!” She looks mortified. “But I didn’t know a man would… Do that. To a woman.”

“Oh, but he would.” Jaime smirks “ _I_ would.” He bends his head to nuzzle against her blonde hair. “Calm down. It will feel good, I promise.”

He makes her understand just how good, tonguing her in broad strokes, her lips first and then her clit. “Hold on to my hair,” he instructs, and she obeys, holding him as he licks her over and over again.

Brienne tastes so _good_ , rich and sweet and salty, and he is desperate to fuck her, to put his cock inside her wet heat. He keeps on going, though, wanting to make her come like this first.

She’s almost there, he can see it, in the way she moans and in the way her hips rises, searching his mouth, desperate for release.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You can move my head if you want. Show me how it feels good for you.” She does, gripping his hair just a little bit too tight as she moves her hips up, and by this point she is pretty much fucking herself on his mouth other than the other way around. It’s messy and wild and arousing as fuck. She presses her cunt against his mouth again and finally comes, whimpering, her strong legs shaking and almost stifling him in the intensity of her orgasm.

“Did I hurt you?” It’s the first thing she asks after she has come down. “Gods, Jaime, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

Jaime chuckles and moves up to kiss her mouth, his beard wet with her juices.

“You’re delicious. You _should have_ and I really hope you’ll do it again later.”

Brienne flushes.

“Will you bed me now?”

He chuckles again, brushes her hair away from her eyes tenderly.

“But I _am_ bedding you. Just because my cock is not inside you, it doesn’t mean it’s not bedding.”

She shrugs, then reaches for the laces of his pants.

“I just meant… You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

He gets up briefly to discard his pants, his underwear and his boots, and then comes back to her. She watches his cock intently, with curiosity, hard and heavy as it is against his belly.

Jaime hesitates.

“May I…?”

“Yes.”

He gets over her, rubs the head of his cock gently against the entrance of her cunt. She’s wet and ready, and there will be no better time than this.

“This will hurt,” he warns, still a tad hesitant.

“I know,” Brienne huffs. “I can take pain. I’m not made of glass, as you know.”

So he moves, pressing inside, and it’s warm and wet and tight and wonderful. It takes a lot of effort not to thrust up to the hilt, deep, fucking her in earnest. Instead, he waits, kisses her lips.

“You can move, Jaime,” she murmurs, almost amused at his concern. “It didn’t even hurt that much.”

So he does move, and _oh_ , it’s done. He is inside her, they are joined, and she gasps and whimpers as he fucks her, slowly and gently at first, and then a little more roughly, his thighs slapping against hers.

She clenches her hands in his hair and moves her hips to meet him, and their lips clash messily. The entire thing is a little messy, but warm and passionate and easy and Jaime cannot believe they have not tried this sooner. Jaime could have died not knowing how it felt being inside her and he fervently vows to enjoy every chance he gets before he inevitably meets his end.

He doesn’t last long, unfortunately. It’s been too much time since he last did this and it’s just too unreal that he is doing it with _Brienne._   It’s far too much for him to take, and much sooner than he usually would, it ends.

He pulls out of her and comes with a groan, spilling in her sheets. She runs her fingers through his hair after it’s done, so gentle, and waits for his breath to come back to normal.

“Would you stay here with me tonight?” she asks in a small voice, as if she is not sure if the question is welcome. As if she doesn’t _know_ , what she means to him, what he wouldn’t give to spend the night by her side, _every night._

“Tonight and every other night until the day I die” he vows hotly. And because he cannot be sure that she wants that (but he thinks she does, oh, _she does_ ), he adds like a question “If you’ll have me.”

Brienne smiles a bit, her blue eyes impossibly bright.

“Jaime,” she reprimands quietly, but the smile takes the sting out of it. “You shouldn’t say that. It almost sounded like… Like if you were asking if I…”

“But I am.”

She presses her body against his, holds him, and she is crying again, although this time she is smiling as well, a smile as big as the one she gave when he knighted her.

“Yes, “she chokes out, and when she kisses him he realizes she's not the only one crying. “Yes.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes :)


End file.
